


Paper Hearts

by almokyung



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 08:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13314027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almokyung/pseuds/almokyung
Summary: Jongin has feelings for his best friends, ones he keeps hidden inside a box in the back of his closet.





	Paper Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for fko 2017.

“Are you ready to go?”  
  
Jongin turns around and spots Kyungsoo near the entrance of the shop, next to a bouquet of yellow roses.   
  
“I’m going to need a few more minutes to close up,” he says, watering a few more flowers before sweeping up leaves, petals and cut-off stems off the floor.  
  
Kyungsoo leans against the register, propping his head up with his hand as he holds back a yawn.  
  
“I never got why people buy actual flowers. Fake ones are so much cheaper, plus they last forever.”  
  
“But they’re not real. They might look nice from afar, but once you get close you realize all the things they lack. Real flowers are much more beautiful, they change the whole atmosphere of a room. They require a lot more care and attention, of course, but I think if you’d give them a chance, you’d see they’re worth all that. It’s true that they don’t last forever, but that’s okay. Beautiful things don’t need to last forever to be magical.”  
  
Kyungsoo sighs inwardly when he sees the small smile on Jongin’s face as he does a last few adjustments on a small bouquet.  
  
“I’m sorry. I know how much they mean to you,” Kyungsoo says softly, rubbing his forehead.  
  
“And I know how grumpy you can get when you haven’t had your afternoon coffee. Smell these.”  
  
Kyungsoo inhales the scent of the flowers held in front of him. A smile blooms on his face when he’s taken back to when him and Jongin would play out in the fields together when they were young.   
  
“Reminds me of how you used to make daisy chains. You refused to put them on your head because  _only girls do that_.”  
  
Jongin nods. It weren’t his words originally, but ones put in his mouth by the boys from next door who used to tease him for his soft-hearted nature.   
  
“And you put them on my head anyway. You knew how pretty I found them,” he smiles, remembering how Kyungsoo would wear them too. He’d take him by the hand and they’d walk all around the neighborhood for everyone to see. He’d forget all about the tears he had cried a few minutes earlier, because as long as he had Kyungsoo on his side, nothing else mattered.  
  
Their reminiscent silence is broken by both of their phones alerting them that it’s time to get going.  
  
-  
  
The small café glows in the light of candles and fairy lights. The scent of seasonal holiday drinks fills the air, its warmth making up for the short days and the decreasing temperatures outside.   
  
“I really tried to keep it small this time,” Jongin tentatively hands the bouquet of red roses and pink carnations to Junmyeon who sits on the other side of the table.  
  
“They’re lovely, Jongin,” Jongdae says, putting down his and Junmyeon’s drink before sitting down.  
  
“They must be. Even Kyungsoo approves of them,” Jongin playfully pushes his shoulder against Kyungsoo’s.  
  
“Yeah, and I’m also going to be the one taking care of them. Honestly, what would you guys do without me?”  
  
“I think if Jongin can manage on his own, we’d be able to survive without you,” Junmyeon smiles.  
  
“Yeah.  _Survive_ ,” Kyungsoo mumbles into his cup as he takes a sip.  
  
“Alright, guys, please,” Jongdae begins, then focuses his attention towards his friend sitting across from him. “Jongin, thank you for the flowers; Kyungsoo, thank you for taking care of us.”  
  
“You’re welcome.”  
  
Jongin lifts his cup. “Happy anniversary, guys,” he says proudly.   
  
“Thank you,” Jongdae and Junmyeon exchange a loving gaze. Jongdae nuzzles against his neck when the rest of them hold their drinks up as well.   
  
-  
  
“Jongin.”  
  
Kyungsoo stays with him for another moment while the other two head to the subway.   
  
“I promised to cook them dinner, but I think they should have the apartment to themselves tonight. Do you mind if I stay at your place?” Kyungsoo asks, absentmindedly fixing Jongin’s scarf.  
  
A mischievous smile dances across Jongin’s lips. “Do you think they should have the apartment to themselves or would you rather not overhear certain things?”   
  
Kyungsoo undoes a button on Jongin’s coat and places the ends of his scarf under the lapel of it before buttoning it up again. “Maybe a little bit of both,” he admits.  
  
“Kyungsoo!” He doesn’t turn around at the sound of Junmyeon’s voice.  
  
Jongin looks over Kyungsoo’s shoulder to see the other two impatiently waiting at the stairs, then back at Kyungsoo’s face. “You know when I told you to come over whenever you want, I meant it.”  
  
“I’ll bring leftovers.”  
  
“I’d appreciate that.”  
  
-  
  
Jongin sits down at the desk in his small apartment. He takes a piece of paper and begins to write.  
  
 _Dear Kyungsoo,  
  
It’s getting chilly again, right? A lot of people struggle when the temperatures outside drop, but I don’t mind. I like winter. The coldest of days can bring out the warmest side in someone. Everyone gives each other presents and there’s warm drinks, cozy sweaters and fluffy blankets all around. I want to spend more time with you this winter. I think you warm my heart more than anything else. Just like our friends found together in the midst of a cold day, I hope we could be the same.  
  
Yours truly,  
Jongin_  
  
He lets the words stare back at him until they sink in. With a sigh he carefully folds the piece of paper in half. He reaches for a box hidden behind a stack of blankets in his closet and places the letter inside, along with the countless others that have accumulated over the years. He can’t say it’s something he’s proud of.  
  
-  
  
“Junmyeon and Jongdae are so lucky.” Jongin puts down his empty bowl. It’s rare he gets to enjoy Kyungsoo’s food these days.  
  
“You’re the one who didn’t want to move in together,” Kyungsoo reminds him.  
  
“You know it’s because I wanted to stay close to my parents.” He knew it was time to be independent, time to be an adult. Kyungsoo couldn’t wait to live somewhere else, but Jongin didn’t feel ready. It’s still odd to him, being an adult, maybe because he doesn’t feel like one. But it’s okay, he manages. It’s probably for the best to not have all his feelings under the same roof as Kyungsoo.   
  
“Your mom makes bean paste stew for you sometimes, doesn’t she?” Kyungsoo picks up the empty bowls and carries them over to the sink where he automatically begins to do the dishes which Jongin has been piling up for the past few days.  
  
“It’s not as good as yours.”  
  
That makes Kyungsoo smile.  
  
“Don’t tell her I said that.”  
  
“What movie do you want to watch?” Kyungsoo asks as he settles on one side of the couch while Jongin gets comfortable on the other.   
  
“Actually, there’s an anime I wanted to watch, but I don’t know if you can handle it.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“It’s a sports anime.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“Well if tennis makes you cry, I’m not sure you can handle ice skating.” Jongin tries to stay cool and not burst into laughter right away, but he can’t help the smile that begins to form at the corner of his lips. Kyungsoo smiles a little too when he playfully pushes the sole of his foot against Jongin’s chest.  
  
Jongin’s lids begin to feel heavy after a few episodes. He always dozes off too easily on nights like these when he’s in the comfort of Kyungsoo’s presence.   
  
He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep when he wakes up to see Kyungsoo looking back at him.  
  
“Wh-what time is it?”  
  
“Don’t worry about that. Close your eyes. I’ll get you a blanket.” The warmth of Kyungsoo’s voice and the gentle caress of his hand on his shoulder lulls Jongin back to sleep. He feels peaceful and content.  
  
He startles awake at a thumping sound. Disoriented, he looks around.   
  
Silence.   
  
Did he imagine it? He lies back down. It wouldn’t be the first time his subconscious tricked him with noises.  
  
And then he realizes.  
  
 _No. No, no, no, no, no. It can’t be._  
  
He holds on to the doorframe, vision cloudy from having gotten up too fast. And then it’s clear. Too clear. And he wishes it wasn’t.   
  
Because what he sees is Kyungsoo kneeling on the floor, one letter in each hand, the others scattered around him.  
  
Jongin’s grip tightens. The ringing in his ears is so loud he thinks he might pass out.   
  
This can’t be happening.  
  
Kyungsoo’s eyebrows are furrowed, his expression one of disbelief as he stares at the letter in his hand.   
  
“They- I- the blankets- they just fell out.” He scurries to put the letters back in the box, the movements of his hands grow more frantic and begin to shake. There’s too many of them.  
  
“Please tell me you didn’t read any of them,” Jongin whispers.  _”Please.”_    
  
Kyungsoo pauses. He opens his mouth. For a second nothing comes out. “I didn’t mean to,” he says finally, his voice quiet.   
  
Jongin closes his eyes.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo’s voice breaks, barely managing to utter the words. He gets up. “I should go,” he says. He averts Jongin’s eyes as he hurries past him.   
  
Jongin stands still, completely frozen until he hears the door close behind him. He looks at the letters that remain on the floor. Walks towards them. Sinks down. And sits in the mess he made.  
  
-  
  
 _Dear Kyungsoo,  
  
It’s been two weeks since you found out. Two weeks since anything has felt normal. Two weeks of awkward trivial conversations and avoiding eye contact. Two weeks of acting like nothing happened, but obviously acting like something happened. Two weeks of wondering if you’d hate me if I still called you my best friend.   
  
Yours truly,  
Jongin  
  
-  
  
Dear Kyungsoo,  
  
Junmyeon told me at lunch that they moved your shift. He was surprised I didn’t know. I acted like I did. I guess this means you haven’t told anyone what happened. I can’t help but think that you’re avoiding me. You shouldn’t have to go out of your way to do that if I make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.  
  
Yours truly,  
Jongin  
  
-  
  
Dear Kyungsoo,  
  
It’s been getting colder and colder outside. It seems like no matter how many layers I put on, it’s still freezing. This apartment feels lonelier and quieter since you never come to visit anymore. I wonder if you’re sleeping well. Isn’t it ironic that the thought keeps me up at night? The world seems so distant and unreal lately. Jongdae asked me if everything was okay. I thought about telling him, but I figure it’s better if I keep it to myself.   
  
Yours truly,  
Jongin  
  
-  
  
Dear Kyungsoo,  
  
I don’t even remember when I last saw you. You’re never around anymore. Even when I come over- especially when I come over. And still you seem to be everywhere; my thoughts, my dreams- when I actually manage to sleep, that is, and of course these letters. I still have the shirt you forgot the last time you slept over, the one I accidentally spilled water on. It smells like you. I really like the way you smell, have I ever told you that? There’s many words I could think of to describe it, but I think the one that fits the best is ‘home’. Friday movie nights don’t feel the same without you here. Sometimes I’d end up watching you instead of the TV. I wonder if you ever noticed. The only way I get to look at you now is through old pictures. The ones we took together make me feel so bittersweet. Back then who would have thought we’d ever end up like this? It’s not right. Nothing is.  
  
Yours truly,  
Jongin  
  
-  
  
Dear Kyungsoo,  
  
I miss you.  
  
I miss you so fucking much.  
  
Yours truly,  
Jongin  
  
-  
  
Dear Kyungsoo,  
  
How can I keep writing these letters when I know my words pushed you away? You’d hate me even more than you already do if you knew I was still writing to you. So this will be my last. I already told you that I miss you, but there’s one last thing I need to get off my chest.   
  
I love you.  
  
And I’m sincerely sorry for that. Please forgive me.  
  
Yours truly,  
Jongin _  
  
-  
  
Jongdae waits at the register as Jongin finishes up with a customer.  
  
“What’s up?” Jongin wears a fake smile. He doesn’t like lying to his friends when they ask him what’s wrong, but it’s not something he feels like he can talk about either. Kyungsoo obviously hasn’t.  
  
“Junmyeon gets off work in half an hour. We’re going to the coffee house, do you want to join?”  
  
“I can’t, I have to work late.” A small part of him feels upset, the bigger part is relieved he doesn’t have to spend another night feeling like the third wheel.  
  
“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
  
Jongin looks around. There’s about five bouquets he’s left unfinished. He’s used to doing them one by one, but his mind is too scattered to focus lately. His hands rummage around the counter in an attempt to find the to do list he thinks he made earlier.  
  
“Oh and by the way-”  
  
He stops and turns around.  
  
“Thanks for letting Kyungsoo sleep over so much lately. Junmyeon and I are really appreciating our alone time,” Jongdae informs him with a cheeky smile.  
  
Jongin’s heart skips a beat at the mention of Kyungsoo’s name.   
  
“Y-you’re welcome,” he responds automatically, despite being dumbfounded.  
  
He can’t manage to get even half the amount of his work done after hearing that.  
  
  
Jongin bounces on the balls of his feet as he waits at the bus stop. He grunts internally when the display shows a delay due to increasing snowfall.   
  
The sound of footsteps in the snow catches his attention. There’s usually no one else here this late. It takes him two looks to fully comprehend that the person is none other than Kyungsoo. He stares at him from the noticeable distance between them. Just for a moment. Just until his senses kick back in and he realizes that Kyungsoo faces the other way.   
  
Minutes feel like hours. Unsaid words hang in the air and deafen Jongin’s ears.   
  
“Don’t you have a jacket?” Jongin’s question is unexpected, even by himself. But it catches Kyungsoo’s attention.  
  
“I forgot it at home. I was running late.”  
  
“Do you want to borrow mine?”  
  
“No, it’s okay.”  
  
Jongin tries to focus on something else, but eventually gives up, unable to ignore how restless Kyungsoo becomes in the frigid weather.  
  
“Do you at least want my scarf?”  
  
Kyungsoo shakes his head. He’s hunched over, arms crossed with sleeves pulled over his hands.   
  
“Kyungsoo,” Jongin tries, concern obvious in his tone.  
  
“Really, I’m fine.” Kyungsoo says. His teeth clatter from the cold.  
  
Jongin can only take about another minute of Kyungsoo pretending he’s not freezing half to death before he makes his way over, mumbling something about how stubborn he is under his breath. Kyungsoo’s eyes go wide when Jongin stands in front of him, opens his coat and embraces him with it.   
  
His response is not what Jongin expects. Because what he expects is to be pushed away accompanied by another lie about how everything’s okay. But Kyungsoo doesn’t move. And before Jongin can take comfort in his acquiescence, Kyungsoo closes the small distance between them. And then he surrenders. Slowly. Tentatively. He lets his head rest against Jongin’s shoulder, allows his arms to come around Jongin’s waist. And just like that, in each others closeness, the world seems still for a moment.  
  
In his head, Jongin holds Kyungsoo much longer than the situation allows him. Even days later he’s still there with him in the snow, at least until he’s pulled back into reality by the sound of his mother’s voice.  
  
“I thought you wanted to help,” she says, throwing a dish towel at him. He smiles a little, picks it up and walks over to dry the stack of plates she’s been cleaning.   
  
“I can take it from here. You should join the others.”   
  
“I’m not letting my son clean dishes by himself on Christmas Eve.” She nudges his shoulder. He can tell that she’s noticed how quiet he’s been, but she doesn’t comment on it. That’s something he’s always appreciated about his mom, she knows when something’s wrong, but she doesn’t force him to talk about it. She just keeps him company and doesn’t ask uncomfortable questions, and sometimes that’s enough.  
  
“Did Kyungsoo move back in with his parents?”   
  
“What?”  
  
“I’ve been seeing him around a lot lately.”  
  
“Not that I know of.”  
  
“Well, maybe he just wanted to spend the holidays with his family, unlike someone else.”  
  
“Mom, I live fifteen minutes away from here,” Jongin moans.  
  
“Still, your father and I wouldn’t mind having you over more than once a week during this time of year.”  
  
“Fine, I’ll stay over more often.” His tone suggest that it’s an annoyance to him, though deep down he must admit it’s nice to be surrounded by loved ones for a while.  
  
He looks outside the window. His eyes fixate on a house on the other side of the street, one that before he moved out he would have considered his second home. He sees that the light in the left room of the second floor is on and breathes a sigh of relief.   
  
Family gatherings always prove to be a little overwhelming for Jongin who much prefers his own company after a few hours. He goes for a walk by himself to clear his head. It’s a Christmas Eve tradition of his. He visits a playground he used to frequent as a child, one which offers a view of the town with all its festive lights. It’s a pretty sight. So pretty, he started sharing it with his best friend. He wonders if he’ll be there tonight.   
  
And he is.  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t look over. He doesn’t say anything. He just makes room for Jongin on the bench.  
  
“Are you still mad at me?” Jongin barely asks, scared of the answer.  
  
“I never said I was mad at you.”  
  
Jongin has more questions. So many more. He settles for the most important one of all.  
  
“Are we okay?”  
  
Kyungsoo’s voice is barely a whisper. “I don’t know.”  
  
Jongin tries to swallow the lump in his throat. Hopes Kyungsoo doesn’t notice the tears that fall from his eyes silently. “I’m sorry about everything.”  
  
The cold that stings his ungloved hand is replaced by the warmth of Kyungsoo’s hand and it makes him cry even more.  
  
“So am I,” Kyungsoo says, stroking Jongin’s cold skin with his thumb.  
  
-  
  
Kyungsoo sits in a quiet corner, away from the rest of attendees of Chanyeol’s annual New Year’s Eve party.   
  
He takes another piece of paper he stole from the printer earlier and begins to fold. He’s never been the type to get fidgety when he’s anxious. Instead he becomes silent, unusually so, even given his quiet nature. Although he appears statuesque on the outside, there’s a storm raging in his head.   
  
He picked up the habit of making origami when he found a book about it at his grandmother’s house when they had come to visit. He’d gotten in a fight with Jongin the day before that. He doesn’t even remember what it was about. Probably something stupid, since they were young.   
  
But he remembers he made Jongin cry.   
  
He hated when someone made Jongin cry. And that time it had been his fault.   
  
And his tears from last week, ones that Jongin had tried to hide, were his fault, too.   
  
And he doesn’t even want to know how many more tears he’s caused him since the night he came across the letters.  
  
There’s so many things Jongin doesn’t understand. So many things even Kyungsoo himself doesn’t understand.   
  
He takes another sip from his beer. Empties it. Puts it down next to the other two bottles.  
  
“Making origami again, huh?” Baekhyun sits down beside him.  
  
Kyungsoo is slouched over the tabletop and picks the label off one of the beer bottles. “I like that you can take a flat, empty piece of paper and turn it into something intricate with folds and edges,” he philosophizes in a semi-inebriated lull.   
  
“Fascinating.”  
  
Kyungsoo frowns at Baekhyun. “Yeah,” he murmurs while nodding his head.  
  
Baekhyun stifles a laugh and takes one of the paper figures. “Jongin has one just like this,” he says, studying the bear in his hands.  
  
 _Jongin._  
  
“So?”  
  
“He told me you made it for him because his parents used to call him  _Nini-bear_  when he was little,” Baekhyun chuckles.  
  
He did. He gave it to him when he moved out. It was the first piece of decoration in Jongin’s new apartment. Kyungsoo thought it might remind him of home. After all, he knew it wasn’t easy for Jongin to move out or to live alone.   
  
Though that wasn’t the only reason he gave it to him.  
  
“I can’t believe he still has that stupid thing.”  
  
“He misses you, too,” Baekhyun says after a moment.   
  
Kyungsoo gives him a puzzled look. “Did he tell you?”  
  
“No. Not in so many words anyway. I know nothing. I just know that apparently you’ve been spending a lot of nights at his place, which is interesting since I didn’t see you there whenever I came to visit on any of them. And unlike someone,” - he glances over at Jongdae and Junmyeon - “I’ve noticed that both of you have been acting strange. You’re never together anymore. Something happened. And it’s obvious you miss each other.”  
  
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “Wow, thank you for that riveting analysis, Sherlock,” he grumbles.  
  
As if he’s not painfully aware already.  
  
Baekhyun picks up a piece of paper that Kyungsoo fashioned into the shape of a heart.  
  
“I’m going to tell you a secret, Kyungsoo. All those things people say about being  _’just friends’_  or being  _’more than friends’_ , that’s all bullshit. Romantic love isn’t superior to platonic love. They’re just different colors of the same flower. You can experience both of them at the same time. No one ever tells you this, but you don’t have to sacrifice one for the other.” He places the heart next to the bear and leaves to rejoin the others.  
  
The crowd begins their countdown.  
  
 _10, 9_  
  
Kyungsoo looks around the room. Looks for Jongin. Even though he already knows he’s not here.  
  
 _8, 7_  
  
He always spends New Year’s at his parents house. Tells everyone he has to stay with the family dogs to keep them calm.  
  
 _6_  
  
It’s a convenient excuse.   
  
 _5_  
  
It lets him pretend he isn’t scared of fireworks himself.  
  
 _4_  
  
But Kyungsoo knows better. Knows that one of the neighborhood kids threw a firework at the two of them and injured Jongin’s hand.   
  
 _3_  
  
He was there with him at the ER that night. Held his hand when he got stitches. Hugged him tight after it was over, so he’d finally stop crying.   
  
 _2_  
  
He didn’t. Not until Kyungsoo kissed his cheek and wished him a happy new year. That did the trick.  
  
 _1_  
  
Everyone cheers and hugs and kisses. Kyungsoo looks out the window and watches the fireworks.   
  
He wishes he was with Jongin.   
  
Wishes he could hold him and make him feel safe.   
  
And he wonders if it would make Jongin smile if he kissed his lips this time.  
  
-  
  
“Kyungsoo, could you get that?”   
  
He turns off the stove and goes to answer the door as his mother continues to rush back and forth in the kitchen. The beat of his heart accelerates as he approaches it.   
  
Why is he so nervous to see Jongin? Why does he feel as if the words that kept him up all night are written all over his face, plain for him to see? It’s ridiculous. He’s being ridiculous.   
  
He opens the door and welcomes the Kim family, wishing them a happy new year as he ushers them to the dining room. He hugs Jongin awkwardly, just like the previous week when they parted on Christmas Eve. But something feels different.   
  
Kyungsoo excuses himself with a quick “I have to go help mom in the kitchen.”  
  
After lunch, Kyungsoo clears the table and heads to his room. He ignored the pounding in his head earlier, thought it was just because of Jongin, but now with everyone talking and laughing he thinks it might be the alcohol.   
  
He draws the curtains, lies down on his bed and covers his eyes with his hands. He manages to shut off his thoughts for a while. Lets his mind travel through distant and diluted memories until the sound of the door opening wakes him from his dream-like state.  
  
“Hey,” Jongin says softly. Kyungsoo looks over at him and sits up in his bed. He regrets doing so when he gets a head rush.   
  
“Sorry I didn’t knock. Your mom said you had a headache. I didn’t want to make it worse.” Jongin hands him a glass of water with a fizzing tablet in it.  
  
“Thank you.” He takes a sip.  
  
“Do you mind if I stay here for a bit? It’s boring downstairs.”  
  
Kyungsoo nods. It’s a first. Jongin usually doesn’t need to knock or ask him if it’s okay to stick around. Of course Kyungsoo doesn’t mind. Shouldn’t he know that?  
  
“Did you drink too much last night?”  
  
“No, I just don’t handle my alcohol well.” Kyungsoo finishes his glass and puts it down on the bedside table.  
  
“How was it?”  
  
Kyungsoo thinks about it for a while. Looks in Jongin’s eyes.  
  
“You should have been there,” he finally says.   
  
“You know I always stay home. You know, because of the dogs,” Jongin says, but it’s not what he means. Kyungsoo knows what it means. They both do.   
  
He glances at the scar on Jongin’s hand. “Is it still that bad?”  
  
Jongin looks down. He nods.  
  
“I should have been there.”  
  
“It’s okay.”  
  
Kyungsoo traces the scar with a light touch and looks at Jongin. “I should have been there,” his voice breaks a little as he repeats the words.   
  
He feels apologetic for not telling Jongin what’s going on inside him. There’s so many things he wants to say. Everything is on the line. Or maybe they’re already over the line and maybe that makes it a little bit easier for Kyungsoo to lean forward and close the distance. Because maybe he wants this even more than Jongin does.  
  
His lips linger on Jongin’s just for a few seconds, pressing ever so lightly before they move carefully, just as much as Jongin will allow him to, just as much as he’ll reciprocate.  
  
They’re dazed when they look at each other. Neither knows what to say, what to do, what happens next.   
  
They back away from each other when there’s a knock on the door and Kyungsoo’s mom peeks in. “Boys, it’s time for dessert.”  
  
They don’t catch each other’s stolen glances for the rest of the day. Not even when the Kims leave and all Jongin gets from Kyungsoo is quick  _’bye’_  paired with a half-hearted look over his shoulder.  
  
And what does that mean?  
  
Jongin asks himself that very question as he waits. For a text, a call, for Kyungsoo to come over or even just stop by, for them to wait for the bus or spend their lunch breaks together or go to the coffee house with Jongdae and Junmyeon like they used to.   
  
But none of that happens.   
  
Nothing.   
  
So he asks himself again, only this time with a trace of anger and despair.   
  
 _What the hell does it mean?_  
  
And he decides that maybe it means he should make the next move. Because the one Kyungsoo made was immense. It’s the most naive of all the interpretations his brain can muster, of course, but it’s the only one his heart wants to agree with.  
  
So there he stands in front of Kyungsoo’s apartment, box in hand, fingers shaking. He attempts to put a smile on his lips, does his best to convince himself he’s doing the right thing.   
  
 _He wouldn’t have kissed you if-_    
  
If what?   
  
He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence.   
  
The box nearly slips from his hands when the door opens before he’s even had the courage to knock. He forgets his exchange of words with Jongdae as soon as it happens and before he knows it, he’s standing in front of another door. And this time he changes the words he’s been telling his hopeless heart.   
  
 _He kissed you._  
  
He leaves it at that.  
  
“Jongdae let me in,” he explains when Kyungsoo is surprised to see him.  
  
“Here,” he holds out the box to him and hopes he doesn’t notice the tremor in his hands or the unsteadiness of his voice. “I thought you should have them now. Since you already know about them. And they’re addressed to you after all.” It feels like a bunch of lame excuses tied together.  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t react. He merely stares at the box with big eyes. At first it seems like there’s a glint of curiosity in them but then it fades and changes to something else. He almost looks scared of it now, as if he was looking at the box of Pandora.  
  
“Jongin,” his voice is deep and low when he finally speaks. “I don’t think this is a good idea. Any of this. I’m sorry.”  
  
 _You kissed me._    
  
Jongin can’t bring the words across his lips. They’re nothing but a meaningless plea now, a pathetic one at that.   
  
“What am I supposed to do with them?” He asks instead, uncertain if the question is aimed at Kyungsoo or himself.  
  
Kyungsoo shrugs. “Put them back,” he suggests.  
  
“But you know about them. I can’t just keep them to myself anymore.”  
  
“Then throw them out.”  
  
“Throw them out?” As if it was that fucking easy.  
  
“Yes, Jongin, I don’t know what to do either, okay?” Jongin flinches when Kyungsoo raises his voice. He knows he doesn’t like it when people shout.  
  
Kyungsoo’s next words come barely above a whisper. “Maybe we shouldn’t be friends anymore. Maybe we shouldn’t be anything.”  
  
Jongin takes out one of the letters. Begins to read it out loud. Tears up as he does.  
  
 _”Dear Kyungsoo,  
  
I’m scared to text or call you in case you’ve blocked my number. I can’t sleep or eat or concentrate because I constantly feel guilty for fucking everything up. I’m sorry.  
  
Yours truly,   
Jongin._  
  
He throws the letter at Kyungsoo. Reads another one. Begins to sob.  
  
 _”Dear Kyungsoo,  
  
Have you even noticed that it’s been weeks since we last saw each other? That it’s been even longer since we last spoke? Do you even care? If I ever meant anything to you, even as a friend, you wouldn’t just cut me out of your life like this. Why can’t we talk about it? Isn’t that what adults are supposed to do? What am I supposed to do with all this silence?  
  
Yours truly,  
Jongin”_  
  
He throws that one at him, too. Then another. Tosses the whole box. Cries to himself quietly.   
  
He needs Kyungsoo to tell him that it’s okay, that it’s not his fault, that he didn’t choose to fall in love with him.   
  
But he knows it’s not going to happen.  
  
By the time the letters have settled on the floor Jongin gets himself together, at least enough to speak.   
  
“Throw them away, tear them apart, burn them. I don’t care. You always know better anyway.”  
  
He turns around. Walks out the door. And leaves Kyungsoo standing in the mess he made.  
  
-  
  
Kyungsoo keeps himself busy with work all week to avoid talking to anyone, to avoid thinking about the letters that are now hidden behind a stack of blankets in  _his_  closet.   
  
Saturday comes too soon. He spends all day cleaning the apartment, but then before he knows it, he’s lying awake in bed, knowing that there’s nothing for him to do tomorrow, no distractions.   
  
Something bothers him.   
  
When he put the letters back in the box, he did it in a hurry so no one would see.   
  
They’re out of order.   
  
That must be it.   
  
He doesn’t need to read them, he just needs to organize them. Then he can sleep.   
  
The first letter dates back to May 2nd, 2014. And he can’t help it. The words pull him in and he begins to read.  
  
 _Dear Kyungsoo,  
  
Sometimes I daydream about what it would be like if we were together.   
  
You’d tickle me and shower me with kisses to get me out of bed in the morning. You’d call me sleepyhead, but you’d do it with love. We’d hold hands on the way to work and back. Maybe we could sneak away somewhere to make out during lunch break. I’d cheer you up with silly jokes when you’ve have a bad day and you’d cook me my favorite food when I had one. If the movies got boring I’d crawl over to your side of the couch and kiss you instead. And sometimes things would get a little less innocent than that. We’d cuddle up under the blankets when it’s cold and I’d trace the veins on your hands. You’d sing me a lullaby and stroke my hair while I’d fall asleep in your arms savoring everything about you; about us, about how lucky I am to be yours.   
  
I always catch myself smiling when I draw these images in my head.  
  
I’d love you so much if you’d let me.  
  
Yours truly,  
Jongin  
  
P.S.: Do you think ‘yours truly’ is too cheesy? It’s kind of old fashioned, right? Actually, I really like it. I hope you do, too._  
  
It makes Kyungsoo smile. It might have sounded cheesy coming from someone else, but Jongin makes it so endearing.   
  
Hours later, he’s still awake, reading the last of Jongin’s letters.   
  
He misses him more with every sentence.   
  
He remembers the ones Jongin had read to him out loud. Those are the ones that hurt the most, the ones where he talks about his guilt.   
  
 _Guilty._  That’s exactly how Kyungsoo feels right now.   
  
He hasn’t been able to make sense of his own feelings. He wanted to wait until he understood what was going on inside him until he explained it to Jongin, but the closer he tries to get, the less he feels like he’s figuring out.   
  
And maybe he’ll never figure it out. Maybe that’s okay. But after all they’ve been through, Kyungsoo makes a decision.   
  
Jongin deserves to know.  
  
-  
  
“Happy birthday, Kyungsoo!” Jongdae and Junmyeon shout simultaneously as they barge into his room at midnight and force him into a mini group hug. He can’t help but smile when Jongdae ruffles his hair.   
  
“So what do you want to do today?”  
  
“I told you, nothing. I have to work late. We can celebrate some other time.”  
  
“The store closes at 9.”  
  
“That’s… late enough.”  
  
The other two exchange a look.  
  
“We thought you and Jongin worked things out last week, but you’re still not talking and you both seem really miserable,” Jongdae says.  
  
Of course they know. They’ve probably known for a while. It would explain all the unnecessary hugs and all the uncalled for compliments he’s been getting from them lately.  
  
“We can go see a movie after work.”  
  
They don’t look too happy with it, but they get the hint.  
  
“I take it you don’t want to invite him.”  
  
“I already know what his answer would be,” Kyungsoo says, mostly to himself.   
  
He hasn’t gotten the opportunity to say what he’s wanted to say. By now it might be too late.   
  
Jongin must hate him.  
  
It’s a thought Kyungsoo can’t get out of his head all day. Still, he keeps checking his phone to see if Jongin texted.   
  
It’s no surprise that he hasn’t. Why would he?   
  
Why would he ever want to talk to him again?  
  
He checks the time when they get home after the movie, still hoping.   
  
 _11:49_  
  
He should have apologized. It’s the least he could have done.   
  
His hand reaches for the bedside table. He takes two of Jongin’s letters out of the drawer, ones he’s read every night since last week.   
  
One of them is the first one he ever wrote, that one’s his favorite. It makes his heart ache for him, but in the best way possible.   
  
The other one makes him ache for Jongin in a whole different way.  
  
 _Dear Kyungsoo,  
  
I’ve been to quite a few weddings by now, especially since I got a job at the flower shop. Everything is beautiful at weddings. From the location to the flowers, and even the food looks fancy. There’s women in pretty dresses and men in handsome suits. I can never stop my eyes from wandering at these occasions because everywhere you look, there’s beauty.   
  
But when I saw you last night, I couldn’t stop staring. You looked so unbelievably stunning in your tuxedo with your hair pushed back like that, you made everything around you look mediocre in comparison. I didn’t just want to hold your hand or kiss your lips. Truth be told, the things I imagine us doing aren’t always as innocent as my previous letters might have led you to believe. And last night I had the most impure thoughts about you.   
  
I can’t even put into words what you do to me. I want you in ways you can’t even imagine.  
  
Yours truly,  
Jongin_  
  
The sound of Kyungsoo’s phone interrupts his thoughts.   
  
 _Don’t get your hopes up,_  he tells himself when he reaches for it.  
  
 _11:56  
  
Jongin: happy birthday_  
  
Kyungsoo’s heart does something funny. And then, although he’s not sure why, he begins to cry.  
  
-  
  
Jongin checks his phone when there’s no customers in the shop.   
  
Kyungsoo hasn’t responded. Hasn’t even read it.   
  
He should stop trying to interpret meaning into his actions. The message was simple. He was just trying to be nice. Why should he care what Kyungsoo thinks of it?   
  
When he puts his phone back in his pocket he notices a little girl, maybe seven years old, looking at some tulips.  
  
“Can I help you?”  
  
“My uncle gave me this,” she says, holding up a gift certificate. “I want to buy flowers for a very special boy, but my dad says flowers are for girls.” She pouts.  
  
“That’s not true. Everyone likes flowers. Well, almost everyone, anyway. Some just can’t appreciate them. And if that special boy is one of those people, you can always keep them for yourself.”  
  
That seems to have cheered her up.  
  
“So, what flowers do you like?” Jongin bends down a little as he talks to her.  
  
“They’re all so pretty.” She looks around, contemplating where to go first. “What are these?” She points over Jongin’s shoulder.   
  
“Those are carnations. Each color has a different meaning. Red ones stand for love, for example,” he explains.  
  
“Do all flowers have meanings?”  
  
“Yes.” Jongin smiles at her.  
  
“Can I ask you something else, Mr. flowerman?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
The girl signals for him to come closer, as if she wants to tell him a secret. “What are  _your_  favorite flowers?”  
  
“Mine?”  
  
She nods. “That way if the boy doesn’t like them, I can tell him he has bad taste because they were picked out by an expert.”  
  
Jongin chuckles. “I’ll create something nice for you, alright?”   
  
He walks around the shop and picks a few of his favorite flowers, keeping in mind the meaning of the bouquet. He carefully arranges them together until he’s satisfied while the girl watches in awe.   
  
“What do you think? Isn’t it pretty?”  
  
“Woooow.”  
  
Jongin thinks she might be his favorite customer he’s ever had.  
  
“Thank you, Mr flowerman!” She sing-songs as she leaves the shop, bouquet in hand.  
  
 _Definitely_  his favorite customer, he corrects himself. He didn’t think anything could cheer him up after such a bad week.  
  
He calls Jongdae on his way home after work.   
  
“Hey, I know we were supposed to hang out today, but I’m really tired. Can we just do something tomorrow instead?”  
  
“What do you mean you’re tired? It’s your birthday today!”  
  
“Tomorrow,” Jongin corrects him.  
  
“Midnight. You know what I mean.”  
  
“Yeah, but I already cancelled on Chanyeol and Baekhyun, so-”  
  
“Jongin!” He hears Jongdae protest when Junmyeon takes the phone from him. “We completely understand. We’ll see you tomorrow, bye.” He hangs up.   
  
 _Weird,_  Jongin thinks.  
  
It gets weirder.   
  
In front of his apartment door lies a bouquet of paper flowers. As he picks them up, he notices the paper has words written on it. There’s a note as well.  
  
 _Jongin,  
  
I read all your letters. This is my response. It’s everything I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.   
  
I know you don’t like fake flowers, but the words in them are real.  
  
Kyungsoo_  
  
Jongin looks around the hall, but no one’s in sight.   
  
He accidentally damages some of the paper as he unfolds it. He mentally curses Kyungsoo for making this more difficult for him, for making him wait even longer. Then he remembers that he only makes origami when he’s anxious, and once he manages to flatten and sort out the pages, Jongin finds out exactly how anxious Kyungsoo has been.  
  
 _Jongin,  
  
I don’t know where to start. There’s too many thoughts in my head, so many feelings I can’t explain to myself. So please forgive me if this letter is a complete mess.   
  
Falling in love is a strange thing. Some say it can happen in the blink of an eye, or even at first sight. I don’t believe in that. I think first encounters can be like planting a seed, but that doesn’t mean you’ll instantly have a blooming flower on your hands. You have to water and nurture it for it to grow. But honestly, what am I doing, trying to lecture you about plant care?   
  
I can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, or the first time I ever imagined your lips pressed to mine. But I remember how I started to like your hugs more than anyone else’s. I enjoyed your presence more than anyone else’s, too. In conversations, I hoped someone would bring up your name. You were all I thought about, all I wanted to talk about.   
  
Jongin.   
  
That’s another thing. I noticed how much I liked your name. Sometimes I’d say it out loud when no one was around. How could I not have? It became my favorite sound in the world.   
  
Jongin.   
  
Hearing it made my heart flutter.   
  
It still does.  
  
There’s a lot of things I never understood about romance. When I was younger and watched TV for example, it didn’t make sense to me when a character confessed their love to the person they had been dating for half a season. What surprised me wasn’t the confession itself, but how the other person reacted. It became awkward instead of romantic, instead of kissing they’d hug, and instead of ‘I love you, too’ they’d respond with ‘thank you’. It never made sense to me because I didn’t understand why you’d date someone if you didn’t love them.   
  
Relationships are still a big mystery to me. I’ve never had one. I’ve had crushes. I’ve always been fine with having feelings for someone else, even when I knew they wouldn’t be returned. It didn’t even seem like an option. So I never confessed. I never even gave myself a chance. And I was fine with that. There’s a strange sense of comfort in admiring someone from afar. But being the one admired, that’s a whole different story. When I read what you wrote about me I couldn’t really comprehend it. The words were aimed at me but I almost couldn’t see myself in them. I thought maybe you had some image of who I was that I couldn’t live up to. I was always scared of being in a relationship because of that, that I’d disappoint the other person and ruin it, and that’s why I always stayed like this. You can’t fuck up a relationship if it doesn’t exist, and people can’t hurt you if you don’t let them in.  
  
I’m scared to swim even in shallow water. I can’t even dip my toes in fear I might drown. I want it to be different. I want to be able to let myself fall in and trust that I’ll be able to breathe underwater, no matter how deep I fall.  
  
Being with you is both the most terrifying and most beautiful thought that’s ever crossed my mind. Everything that’s happened lately - the way our hands touch, the way you held me close, how our lips touched - it makes me feel so vulnerable. It makes me want to run because it’s unfamiliar; it’s not safe. And yet I can’t stop thinking about it - about you - about us. For once I want to be able to just let go, to be brave enough to let myself fall into you. I’ve already hurt you and I need you to know that it’s not because your feelings aren’t returned. I have them too. Strong ones. Unfortunately they’re accompanied by a large amount of fear. If I pretend I don’t have feelings for you, we’ll both get hurt. I can live with hurting myself, but I can’t live with hurting you.  
  
Being in relationship with you - it wouldn’t just be about me loving you, it would be about allowing you to love me. That’s the hardest part. But if I’m honest with myself, we’ve exchanged plenty of love confessions. They weren’t obvious, direct declarations. We don’t shout those prominent three words from the rooftops for everyone to hear. They’re so subtle that maybe we ourselves don’t even realize it sometimes. But they’re there. They’re in the smallest things. Like how you keep coffee in your cupboard for me even though you can’t stand it, or how I cover you up with a blanket after you’ve fallen asleep halfway into the movie. They’re in how we’ve always stood up for each other and how when we need to escape the real world for a while, we do it together. They’re in how I ask you to text me to let me know you got home safe, in how you make sure I don’t drink too much at parties because you know I’ll regret it in the morning, or how we laugh at jokes no one else understands. I could go on forever, but you get the idea.  
  
So if you’re still reading, let me just say it directly:  
  
I love you, too.  
  
Kyungsoo_  
  
Jongin stares at the pages in disbelief. He wonders if it’s a dream. Needs to read the words again for them to sink in.   
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t pick up his phone when he tries to call. He wouldn’t know what to say if he answered, but that doesn’t stop him.   
  
He paces in his apartment when he can’t get a hold of him. Maybe he should go over there.   
  
There’s a knock on the door.   
  
It’s Kyungsoo.   
  
He brought flowers.  
  
“I wanted to give you real flowers, too.”  
  
Jongin accepts the strangely familiar looking bouquet. “Those are-”  
  
“Put together by the best florist in town.”  
  
Jongin smiles at the compliment. “Who was-”  
  
“Second cousin.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
They remain quiet as Kyungsoo comes in and Jongin puts the flowers in a vase, secretly wearing a wide smile on his face when Kyungsoo can’t see. He’s worked with flowers for years, though he’s never been lucky enough to receive any himself before.   
  
“I like to think I know you better than anyone else. For a while now there’s been this silence about you, one that even I couldn’t really understand. I thought maybe it was just part of growing up, or that we were growing apart, although I hoped that wouldn’t happen. But it makes sense now, most of it,” Jongin says.   
  
Kyungsoo gets the origami bear of the shelf. He hands it to Jongin. “I take it you’ve never unfolded this.”  
  
Jongin looks at it, then at the disassembled paper flowers, and finally at Kyungsoo. He begins to unfold it carefully. “I don’t want to tear it,” he says, thinking of the accidental damage he’s done to the letters earlier.   
  
“Here,” Kyungsoo helps him out until there’s only a few simple folds left.  
  
Jongin recognizes Kyungsoo’s handwriting. It’s so small he has to look closer to be able to read it.  
  
 _I think I’m falling in love with you._  
  
“You gave this to me, what, five years ago?”  
  
Kyungsoo nods.  
  
“This whole time?”  
  
He scrunches his nose nonchalantly.   
  
Jongin snorts. “You’re an idiot.”  
  
“I know,” Kyungsoo almost laughs.  
  
“You’re such an idiot,” Jongin repeats, shaking his head. He discards the piece of paper and opts for pulling Kyungsoo into a kiss instead.  
  
Being kissed by Jongin might feel even more amazing than kissing Jongin, Kyungsoo thinks.  
  
Their kiss turns into a tight embrace. They’re finally in each other’s arms.  
  
“You’re not the only one who’s scared, you know?” Jongin confesses as he pulls back.   
  
Kyungsoo dries the tears off they younger’s face using his thumbs. “I didn’t realize that at first. I’ve learned there comes a point where your desire outgrows your fear. You just got there faster than I did. I’m sorry it took me so long.”  
  
Jongin’s holds on to his wrists and Kyungsoo lets his hands slip into Jongin’s. “Just… stay?” Jongin’s voice turns into a whisper. “Please stay.”  
  
The sound of incoming text messages interrupts the moment. Jongin turns his phone on silent. “Sorry about that.”  
  
“Happy birthday, Jongin.” He kisses him again. Both of them smile against each other’s lips.  
“Go check your messages,” Kyungsoo says. He knows he wants to.  
  
Jongin reads some of the messages that show on his lockscreen. His smile fades just a bit. He puts the phone to the side. “You know what, those can wait.”  
  
He steps closer to Kyungsoo, let’s his hand slide down his waist. Reminds himself he must have read those letters, too. And he wonders if Kyungsoo is as curious as he is. So he tries, tests the waters. And Kyungsoo lets him. Reciprocates, even, by letting his own hands and lips explore. It’s hot all of a sudden, even with them shedding clothes and the frigid temperature outside. Because after holding back for so long, all they want is to be closer.   
  
Kyungsoo wears Jongin’s sweater as he sits on the windowsill after their night together. He watches the snow fall while Jongin is still asleep. He always did sleep longer than him. He joins him eventually. The blanket he’s draped over himself falls from his shoulder a little when he rubs the sleep from his eyes. He shares the blanket with Kyungsoo and snuggles up to him under it. He finds Jongin’s hand and intertwines their fingers.   
  
Winter has never felt this warm.


End file.
